The Cartel (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 15)

by Jonas Saul

  The men in the room all reacted differently. One guard behind Casper shouted something but it was drowned out by Casper’s inhuman hollering. Alejandro simply stepped away from Casper and pivoted to see what Aaron was up to.

  The guard to Aaron’s right leveled his weapon at Aaron as he pulled the second pin with his teeth.

  Simultaneously, Aaron launched himself backwards as the man fired.

  The guards behind Casper were running away as Casper whipped the glove off his hand and dove forward, toward Alejandro.

  The first grenade exploded behind Casper’s chair.

  The sound stunned Aaron as he landed on his back, using his body to land hard and break the chair, but it didn’t give.

  The guard he had yanked the grenades off on his left had been shot by the guard on Aaron’s right. It all happened so fast.

  Aaron still held the other grenade but he was trapped like a turtle on his back, his feet held firm to the chair with duct tape.

  Alejandro shouted for someone to get Casper off of him.

  The guard on the left dropped to his knees, blood pulsing out of a bullet wound. Aaron needed the man’s weapon. He passed the grenade with no pin into his wounded hand, careful to keep the firing mechanism depressed. Before the guard collapsed completely, Aaron snatched a handgun from the man’s waistband. He brought it up to his face, panting frantically, shaking, and flipped the safety off.

  When he spun his head to the right, the other guard was gone. After mistakenly shooting his colleague, he had gone to help get Casper off Alejandro.

  Aaron aimed his shaking hand as best he could, then fired.

  The bullet tore a hole in the guard’s neck, an inch above the Kevlar. He couldn’t have asked for a better spot.

  The man reeled off Casper and stumbled backwards, holding his neck as blood seeped out.

  Then Aaron aimed at Alejandro and realized he wasn’t holding the grenade in his wounded hand anymore. It had rolled out without him noticing and sat two feet to his right.

  Even as he aimed the weapon between his ankles, he assumed the grenade would kill him before he had a chance to escape. But he fired at the duct tape anyway, tearing it in half. His ankles were free.

  Footsteps stampeded in from outside.

  Aaron did a backflip off the chair as he threw himself at the wounded guard on his left. He landed on the man and without losing his grip on the gun, he hugged the man close and rolled, putting the man’s body between him and the inevitable explosion of the grenade.

  Just as he was about to be covered by the guard, four armed men rushed up and stood in front of the table, right in front of the grenade.

  Aaron didn’t have time to check on Casper, but he hoped he would take cover as well.

  The grenade exploded. The body on him jolted from the pressure. Aaron lost his ability to hear. A ringing sensation clung to his ears.

  Wearily, he pushed the man off and raised the gun. When he saw no immediate threat, he sat up. The four men who had run up to the table were sprawled on the floor, two of them still moving. Blood was everywhere. Pieces of torn clothing, chunks of flesh, and crimson liquid covered the scene. It all happened in less than a minute, too fast to comprehend anything other than survival.

  Aaron got to his feet, the torn duct tape still attached to each ankle. He walked over to Alejandro and aimed the weapon at the back of his head.

  A second later, Alejandro was thrust aside and Aaron was looking down at Casper’s smiling face. Casper’s mouth moved but Aaron couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  Aaron touched his ears and gestured that he couldn’t hear.

  Casper offered a thumbs up and then ripped at the duct tape on his ankles.

  Aaron turned and studied the scene. The guards that had stood behind Casper were unconscious or dead from the first grenade. His guards were dead and it appeared Alejandro had died from the second grenade blast when Casper hugged him as protection.

  The four men who ran in to help Alejandro had stood right over the grenade. In less than a minute they had killed and wounded eight men, including Alejandro.

  Now they just needed to leave the building without being killed and get to the hospital to save Sarah.

  “You in there,” someone shouted.

  Aaron heard that, like it was coming down a tunnel, muffled through doorways. His hearing was coming back. He glanced at Casper who had also heard the voice.

  “We have the barn surrounded. Put down your weapons and come out. We’ll burn the barn to the ground if we don’t see you within five minutes.”

  Aaron looked at Casper. He was smiling.

  “Good job,” Casper yelled.

  Aaron nodded his thanks.

  “Let’s kill us a few more cartel guys. You with me?”

  Aaron nodded again and wiped something off his face. Blood. Someone’s blood was all over him.

  “Get as many weapons as you can off these guys,” Casper said as he began snatching guns and grenades off the man Aaron had shot in the throat.

  “Then we kill everyone outside,” he said.

  “Aren’t you hurt from that glove?” Aaron asked when he found his voice.

  “No,” Casper shook his head. “The ants were still sedated. I was yelling like that as a diversion, hoping you’d do something. I had no idea you’d turn it into a scene from Rambo or some shit. That was intense. We need guys like you where I work.”

  It was Aaron’s turn to smile.

  Chapter 22

  Sarah settled in at the hospital. They had done X-rays and determined three ribs were cracked but no internal bleeding or other injuries. She didn’t understand why they gave her an IV drip for cracked ribs. She hated hospitals and being guarded by Mexican authorities in a Mexican hospital was not boding well for her. Darwin needed her to stay and wait for the cartel to come but all she kept thinking about were ways to leave this place.

  Without a knock, the door opened.

  Her special nurse, her demanding nurse, an American working in Mexico, was sassy and smart. Tessa McCurry, with a strong maternal instinct, made Sarah listen.

  “How are you feeling?” Tessa asked as she approached the bed.

  “Like I got run over by the truck and not just hit by it.” Sarah pointed at the white padding they’d wrapped around her ribs. “Is this necessary? It restricts my breathing and there’s this constant tightness in my chest that adds to the pain.”

  Tessa raised her eyebrows. “If it wasn’t necessary we wouldn’t have used it.” She adjusted Sarah’s bedsheets, even though Sarah had kicked them off earlier because it was too hot. “We don’t do things unnecessarily here.” Then she let out a short, choked-off laugh.

  “I wasn’t implying—”

  “I understand,” Tessa cut her off. “And I’m abundantly clear that it is necessary.” She stepped away from the bed and picked up Sarah’s chart. “You should be out of here in the morning.” She set the clipboard down and moved toward the door. “When you leave, you can do whatever you want with that wrap. But not before. We clear on that point?”

  There was a hint of a smile in Tessa’s voice.

  “Clear,” Sarah said. Then added, “Abundantly.”

  Tessa opened the door and slipped into the hall without another word.

  Sarah kicked the covers off and moaned as pain flared up.

  Suddenly Vivian was there. She swooped into her consciousness. Sarah’s head shot backwards at the surprise interruption.

  “Whoa …” she whispered. “Thanks for stopping by, stranger.”

  Vivian ignored Sarah’s sarcasm and stated that a group of women were coming to see her and that this group of women needed to gain access to her room. Sarah had to clear it with the police guard watching her door. If the group didn’t meet Sarah, then she would die in Mexico. The cartel would succeed in killing her. Meeting this group of women would save her life.

  “But how?” Sarah asked, the pit in her stomach turning over.

  Just meet
them. I can’t lose you …

  Sarah shouted for the police guard. He didn’t respond. Ignoring the pain, she shouted again.

  Chapter 23

  The man hopped a fence, then another. He stayed close to the houses. When he got to one that contained a guard dog, he nonchalantly used the sidewalk, then stopped behind a tree.

  Daniel watched the man’s progress from the passenger side window where the curtain offered him an inch to look out through. In the dark it was a near impossibility for anyone to notice him from the outside. His hands clenched, then unclenched as he waited for the man behind the tree to do something.

  It felt wrong. Being here. Raúl had set them up somehow. He just knew it. If he hadn’t set them up, why was a man sneaking up on the RV?

  The silhouette of the man eased out from behind the tree. The meager streetlight bounced off something metal in his hand.

  Daniel unlocked the RV’s door quietly and eased backwards, careful not to shake the vehicle. He continued through the RV until he got to the bathroom where he turned the light on. Then he closed the bathroom door softly, and headed into the bedroom where he took refuge on the bed behind the wall.

  He waited.

  It took a maddening three minutes before Daniel heard the familiar click of the front passenger side door unlatch as it was opened. He waited, his eyes closed, focusing on the man’s sounds. He waited for anything that would alert him to how close the man was getting.

  His stomach flitted with the energy of excitement. The excitement of sparring which was something Aaron had trained his teachers to do well. They were his best students and diligently trained for this sort of dangerous confrontation without ever having the chance—or ever wanting to—encounter such a situation as this one.

  He breathed calmly, quietly, and listened. The man was careful as he entered the RV. He didn’t allow his clothes to touch anything, to get snagged. He stayed balanced. Walked on the carpeted floor, testing his step before applying his weight. Daniel ascertained all that from the man’s movements, his breathing, which was rapid and frightened. There was a subtle movement in the RV as the man stopped in front of the bathroom door.

  Daniel prepared to spring into action as his leg muscles were beginning to cramp. The intruder had taken his time. Time Daniel didn’t want to waste if his friends inside the house needed him.

  The man ripped open the bathroom door, shouted something nonsensical and fired his weapon.

  Daniel leapt off the bed, landed in a crouch behind the open bathroom door, then slammed into it with his shoulder, driving the door into the guy and knocking the intruder to the floor.

  But it didn’t dislodge the gun from his hand. The guy spun to see what had hit him and brought the gun around as he adjusted himself on the floor.

  Frantic that at any second he’d be shot, Daniel dove for the guy, going for the gun.

  The weapon fired.

  Chapter 24

  Parkman stared at Raúl with rage. He schooled himself that the kind of rage he felt would end up getting himself killed if he didn’t take a few breaths and wait to see what happened next.

  He was worried for Daniel who had a gunman heading his way without Daniel knowing it. And what happened to Alex? He was supposed to be watching the house.

  The basement opened up to sliding doors at the back that led out to a well-groomed backyard. Pool lights lit the rim of a kidney-shaped pool with a rock waterfall near the back. The grass and cement walkway surrounding the pool were in immaculate shape. If this was Manuel’s house, the guy made good money. Drug money. Cartel money.

  “Bring them into this room,” Manuel said.

  Raúl gestured with a nod of his head.

  Parkman met Benjamin’s eyes and tried to relay the message to be ready. Do nothing yet, but be ready.

  Parkman got to the door of the next room and stopped. The windowless room had no furniture. It was covered wall to wall in thick plastic. At the back of the room where an old bathroom once was, a large tub was hooked into the plumbing.

  A dead body disposal room.

  “Move,” Raúl said and jammed something sharp in Parkman’s back.

  Parkman stepped inside the room. Tools were suspended from the wall on either side of the entrance. Two saws, forceps, a variety of knives with serrated edges, two swords and several other cutting devices. None of them were very clean. There was a roll of duct tape and rope and even a set of brass knuckles.

  This was a torture-death room.

  Raúl flicked on a floodlight.

  Then Parkman saw the rest and understood immediately. Each wall was coated with a thick foamy material. Soundproofing. Once the door was closed, no one on the outside of the house would hear a thing as they tortured people at will down here. They could shower off in the tub and wrap the plastic up for trash day.

  He couldn’t let the door close. If he did, they would never see the light of day again.

  “Wait,” he said.

  Manuel shook his head. “No, there’s nothing to wait for.”

  A weapon fired from outside somewhere.

  “What was that?” Raúl asked. He exchanged a glance with Manuel. “Your boys need guns against these unarmed kids?”

  The weapon fired again.

  “Shit man,” Manuel growled. “Don’t need this kind of aggravation where I live.”

  He stormed across the room, bumped Benjamin’s shoulder and stopped at the door. “Get these two ready. I’ll be right back.”

  “Remember, we need proof,” Raúl said. “Decapitate them or take a hand. But get something.”

  Manuel nodded and slammed the door closed.

  Parkman’s stomach dropped as he glanced at Benjamin who seemed to be taking all this like it was a joke, a prank.

  Raúl locked the door without taking his eyes off them.

  “Take your shirts off.”

  “Fuck you,” Benjamin said. “You want my shirt off, come do it yourself.”

  “How about this? I kill you, then take your shirt off?”

  “It’s the only way you’re getting my shirt.”

  “Fine.”

  Raúl raised the gun, aimed at Benjamin’s chest, and fired.

  Chapter 25

  Daniel didn’t feel any pain, nor did he focus on it. All he needed to do was subdue the man under him, remove any and all weapons, and ask him what was going on in the house.

  He snapped the guy’s wrist back until he bellowed and dropped the gun. Then Daniel jammed the guy’s wrist into the wall beside them where he heard bones snap. The guy’s scream changed pitch.

  Daniel raised a knee into the man’s crotch while punching him in the sternum with enough force to drive the wind from the guy’s lungs.

  With his wrist dangling at an odd angle, the man brought his legs up and tried to turn on his side as he struggled to breathe.

  Daniel allowed him the turn and took a second to collect his breath while roving his body in search of a bullet hole. He found nothing. When he looked up, there was a small hole in the roof of the RV near where the ceiling connected with the wall. Based on that angle, the guy hadn’t gotten the gun in place in time before he had taken the shot.

  He got down on one knee, punched the man’s broken wrist and grabbed his hair as the man screeched with what little breath he was getting now.

  “What’s happening in the house?” Daniel barked.

  He mumbled something, but Daniel couldn’t get it.

  “What was that?” Daniel asked, his fist poised above the guy’s face.

  “Dead. They’re all dead.” He breathed in deep like he was sucking air through a thin pipe. “Dead. Like you.”

  Daniel dropped his fist so hard, the man’s head bounced off the floor. Then he hit him again. And again.

  It took him a moment to gather that his assailant had been knocked out.

  He retrieved the man’s gun from the carpeted floor, stashed it at the back of his waistband and got to his feet. Once outside, he ran clos
e to the fence, approaching the house while keeping an eye on the neighborhood. Someone had to have heard the gunfire. Someone would be calling the police.